


between two lungs it was released (the breath that carried me)

by zauberer_sirin



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Couch Cuddles, Coulson is a trusting fool, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Future Fic, Holding Hands, Making Out, Naked Cuddling, Post ep 3x03, Resolved Sexual Tension, brief mention of Daisy/Lincoln, protective Daisy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-27 02:45:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5030671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daisy and Coulson play videogames, make out, make up, come to an understanding.</p><p>(Post- 3x03 fluff)</p>
            </blockquote>





	between two lungs it was released (the breath that carried me)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Skyepilot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/gifts).



She has watched it happen over and over.

She has watched on as people took advantage of him, as both friends and enemies manipulated him. Hell, it was even the reason why she got here in the first place, Coulson's willingness to open the door, to trust, to think the best of people. Daisy herself had _exploited_ that, in the first place. But now it's hard to stand back and watch it happen again.

And of course she sees it happen again now, with Price and her team. Coulson said he was not going to trust them but she can see how he's already trusting them and the cost of it might not just be Coulson's to pay.

And of course she has every right to be angry: _he_ invited the enemy here, _he_ has tained the whole place with their presense, ruining home for her.

She's in the common room, indulging in her new ritual of killing things on the tv screen since she can't punch people in real life, she guesses.

That's how Coulson finds her tonight, angrily playing videogames, tense on the couch, when he enters the room. 

"Do you mind?" he gestures at the couch.

Daisy gives him a do-what-you-want-since-you-are-already-doing-that shrug. It's a complicated shrug. Coulson gets it.

He sits on her right side and waits for her to speak first. Daisy knows that he would probably keep quiet for _hours_ if she wanted him to, and she doesn't know whether that infuriates her or she likes it. Right now it's the former. And she really doesn't want to give him the satisfaction of being the civil one here.

"I didn't use to care for videogames, at all," she tells him, her eyes focused on what goes on in the game. Coulson probably can't tell she's on an easy mode and can pay attention to what they say to each other, her fingers basically moving on their own after enough late nights competing with Mack. "But lately I've found it's a good way to deal with your frustrations."

Coulson doesn't pretend he is clueless about her meaning. Again, infuriating or comforting, depends on the moment.

"I know all this is hard for you," he says. "But it's necessary."

"Is it?"

"I hope so," Coulson says, looking at the screen. "I wouldn't want to put you through this on a whim."

Frustration doesn't mean Daisy can't understand he doesn't have petty reasons for this. Doesn't mean it's not there, deep down, that first instinct of wanting to protect the man from people who would take advantage of his... well, his stupidity.

Daisy remembers what Mack did to make her feel better when this started weeks ago and she figures that, for all he is the one responsible for the mess they are in Coulson could do with some work on his frustrations as well. She hands him the second controller.

"Wanna back me up?" she says, not looking at him.

Coulson grabs it with his left hand tentatively.

"It's been a long time," he says. "Mack tried to get me into these, to improve control of the new hand, but I never got around to."

"You just shoot at things, okay, Coulson? It's not that hard."

"What happened to _Phil_?" he asks lamely as he enters the game.

"I don't know. I wonder what he's up to these days."

He shuts up with that for a while and Daisy almost feels bad for it and hates him for making her feel bad.

So she gives him some pointers.

"Go through that door, there's one of them behind it and if you don't go to him he'll sneak up on you further down the hallway," she tells him. Coulson is not the greatest gamer ever but he can follow instructions at least.

"Do you like this sort of stuff?" he asks her.

"This one game?"

"Videogames in general."

"Not really," she replies. "I have a lot of catch up to do if I want Mack to keep me as his partner. I've never really been that interested."

"That's surprising," Coulson comments doing that thing where he moves his body as he plays like it has any effect on the character, then he winces because he realizes he's doing it and struggles to stay still again. Daisy doesn't want to be mean but it's quite funny to see the Director of SHIELD do that.

"Because I was a hacker?" Daisy assumes that's his line of thought. "I was also a girl and boys who like videogames have a knack for putting us off the stuff. Plus, I always felt like it was a bit of a waste of time."

Somehow she can see the smile from the corner of her eye, even though she's very focused on paying attention to this way-too-easy level.

"I get that, that makes sense," he says. "I can't imagine you having a hobby that's somehow unproductive, like this."

It's not like she has the time to find out, if she really wanted a hobby. And fair enough, Coulson has seen her spend every free moment she's had these past months reading up on whatever little data they have about Inhuman biology, things that went way over her head, and researching the theory of sound waves and vibrations to try to improve her skills on the field. Yeah, fun months she's had. 

"I'm here now. Aren't I?" she points out.

"Yes, but this is not a hobby. This is you trying to release your frustration with me."

She's not sure if he's trying to be a smartass or conciliatory here.

"Okay, smart guy, let's see how you do in the next level."

He doesn't do that well and it requires enough concentration from him that he can't keep up with the conversation at the same time. For a while it's almost nice, like two friends hanging out, playing games. She knows it's not like that but it's a nice illusion to have for a moment.

In the end Coulson's skills are not up to the task and he ends up killed off by some nasty merc squad because he is not able to turn around quickly enough.

He leaves the controller on the couch with a little frustrated gesture.

There's something really wrong going on, Daisy notices, staring at his expression. His face does something subtle and painful.

"You know, no matter how advanced these things get," he says, holding up his prosthetic hand, trying to sound light. "It's never the same as the real thing. The precision, I mean. I guess... I should stop expecting it to be."

Daisy herself stops playing and pushes her controller away, watching as Coulson's jaw moves trying to hold back what he's feeling. Daisy wraps her hand around his robot hand, resting between them over the leather of the couch. She's never done it before and for a moment wonders if anyone touches his left hand like this at all. She knows Coulson can't feel it, when she squeezes her fingers around the metal alloy, gently, but she hopes he understands the gesture anyway.

"We haven't had any break lately, have we," she says, her tone finally friendly.

She watches profound relief wash over Coulson's face as she says this. She hadn't realized how much all this was affecting him until she sees his expression change like that. He pulls his hand from under hers, not ready for the gesture yet, but looking grateful.

"No, we haven't. I feel like I haven't been able to breathe in months."

She remembers that first instinct, wanting to protect him from people who would hurt him. Wanting to protecting him from his own trusting nature.

"I hate that they're here," Daisy tells him.

He gives her a sad smile.

"I keep doing that to you, don't I? Last year I kept Ward here, even though I knew it meant hurting you."

She never blamed him for that (she knew he was doing a stellar job of that himself) and she wonders why this is different. Why, if he really thinks this is necessary, it still feels like a betrayal. No, not a betrayal, more like _a waste_. Because he was desperate and if she had been with him they would have found another solution, together.

She sits crosslegged on the couch so she can face Coulson properly. He turns to her as well. She has this feeling like she hasn't seen his eyes in ages, because they were probably too crossed with each other to look properly at each other's faces. She's missed those eyes, specially the way they are right now, all soft edges, pleading with her.

"You didn't count me in," she says, trying to make him understand. "You made that call. And I know why you did it, and I know you didn't mean to – it's not rational but these people here, this call, it made me feel like I didn't matter."

"You mattered," Coulson tells her. "In a way you matter too much."

She nods at him, understanding exactly what he means, watching him gripped by the fear that she might understand.

It takes very little maneuvering where she stands to be able to press her mouth against his. Coulson breathes in, surprised, but giving into her touch quickly, until he's the one kissing her, mostly. And he pushes his hand into her hair and Daisy grabs the front of his shirt and it's the kind of thing she hasn't experienced in _years_ , which is really tragic and the reason why she feels her knees ache with weakness when Coulson opens her mouth and pushes his tongue in. Then his hand moves down from her hair to her knee, gripping her tightly and settling her down. Those fingers – the warmth perfectly drawing them through the fabric of her jeans – are distracting her so much.

She didn't expect this when she invited him to play a videogame to relieve stress. Well, this is relieving that stress, definitively, but it's also building a different kind of stress in her, like how much she wants his hand to move from her knee, touch her everywhere else.

And god she wants to keep doing this, she wants to do so much than this to him, she feels illuminated by her own desire for Coulson, new and surprising and always there since the beginning, but there's something nagging her at the back of her mind that won't let her go. She pushes Coulson away with a swift twist of her wrist.

"I kissed Lincoln," she blurts out.

Coulson looks on, says "Okay" and sits back on the couch. The hand is gone, Daisy thinks hysterically, he's not touching her knee anymore.

"It's not – I don't know how to explain it."

"You don't have to," Coulson tells her. He keeps drawing back, but Daisy keeps her hand in a tight fist in his shirt. He's not getting away, not this time.

"I was desperate," she explains. "I thought it was the only way he'd listen. And yeah – when you said it was personal with Lincoln, you were right. But it's also personal _with you_."

She rests her hand on his chest to make the point, fingers spread over his heart. It had physically hurt to pull away from him just a moment before – just like that abstract feeling of relief when she kissed Lincoln, because maybe she just wants to be close to someone again. But now she knows whom.

"And I know I don't owe him anything because of one kiss, but he thinks..." she watches Coulson's face as she speaks. "I wouldn't feel right, doing what I want to do to you, while there's someone out there who thinks there's something between us. It wouldn't be exactly fair."

Coulson raises an eyebrow.

"What you want to do _to me_?" he repeats, sheepishly.

Daisy rolls her eyes, softly slapping his arm. "Yes, Phil, that wasn't the important part of the sentence. Okay?"

He rests his hand on her knee again. Just as warm as before. He squeezes for encouragement.

"I know," he says. "I know _you_. I know you couldn't–"

"But I don't know where he is. It might take a while to explain things."

Coulson takes away that warm hand, understanding.

Daisy licks her bottom lip to relive the feeling and when she looks up Coulson is staring at her like she had just stabbed him in the heart. Except in a good way.

"Coulson?"

"Yes?"

"Promise me we'll talk," she says. "Like we did tonight. Probably with less kissing but... promise me we'll talk about stuff. Even if things get bad. Promise you'll count me in. It's not enough that I matter to you, you have to prove it. I need to know."

He nods. "Okay."

"Okay."

She wraps her arms around him. It's an awkward position on the couch but she manages to hug him. Coulson moves into it immediately, sighing into her neck and running his right hand along her spine.

"Okay," he repeats into Daisy's ear, his version of _I promise_.

After a while she lets him go, but she doesn't _let him go_. She settles her body into his on the couch, curling her limbs into him in a lazy embrace.

She rests her head on his chest, feeling his heart pick up the rhythm as she wraps one arm around him. Anyone could come into the room now and see them but somehow Daisy is not particularly worried about it, perhaps lulled by the warmth of his body under her. It's a calmer version of wanting to kiss him, a more peaceful iteration of desire. Not what she wants but perhaps what she needs right now. Something to reassure her Coulson is here with her, that they're in this together. She listens to him get calmer as well, his heartbeat less on the panicked side of things. He touches his left hand to the small of her back tentatively and it feels weird, there's no way around the fact it's metal, more solid than it should, pressed against her thin top. Daisy feels bad about noticing but Coulson's body relaxes little by little (very little by little, wow, the guy really needs to loosen up) and the vibrations around her become liquid-like, thicker, softer, a bit like how the world vibrates right before she falls asleep somewhere safe.

"This is good," she says.

She can sense Coulson's agreement before she hears his voice. "Yeah."

"I have to tell you. I'm a firm believer in cuddling."

Coulson's hand on her back get confident, pulls her closer.

"Me too," he sighs.

If he keeps his promise Daisy is sure she can deal with the less-kissing part of it.

 _Probably_.

 

+

 

"You've dressed up," she says, pointing at the suit. It's weird seeing him wearing one again. Disconcerting.

"Well, yes," he admits.

He runs his palm along the length of his tie, proud of it.

He looks good.

"And how's this going?" she says, crossing the room and touching the bruise over his right eyebrow. It was dark red when she left a couple of days ago, now a gentler shade of purple. They both startle at it, after almost months of not touching at all, after not touching at all was the only way of keeping sane. She pulls back, smiling as she turns.

"It'll heal," he says, touching two fingers to it, like he wants to repeat her gestures.

"It serves you right," she comments, but without the bite with which she used to talk about all things ATCU.

She notices him trying to frown but it must still hurt.

"Noted," he tells her. "I thought we had already done the _I told you so_ dance a couple of days ago."

Daisy smiles at him openly. The Playground still shows signs on being on the mend but all in all everyone looks better than she left. The place itself looks more like home. Must be the ATCU-free zone, like the rooms have been cleansed or something, she can smell it in the air.

She drops her bag on one of the chair and that's when she realizes she has come straight to see Coulson from the plane, over-eager and a bit pathetic. Coulson follows the gesture with his eyes, patient and a bit pathetic.

"How was the trip?" he asks, shyly.

"What? No foreplay?" she teases. Coulson goes white as a ghost. Then he recovers and gives her one of those smug smiles of his. Daisy becomes serious. "Let's go to your room to talk," she suggests.

He agrees and leads her to his quarters.

He doesn't press her to tell him what happened with Lincoln and she doesn't, it's not his business and all he needs to know is that she's now free to do whatever she wants to him, like she promised. Coulson has, after all, kept his end of the bargain.

She goes to him, wrapping her hands around the back of his neck and pulling him into a kiss she was holding on for way too long. Almost two months remembering their spectacular first kiss, using the memory of it to keep her going through the bad days, the lonely nights, fantasizing about what it would feel like to kiss again, wondering, scared it might not live up to the memory, and wow, this is so much better than she remembered.

Hooking her fingers into the knot of his tie she starts undoing it.

"You're not going to take me out to dinner?" Coulson jokes. "Buy me flowers? Chocolate?"

"I'm out of flowers and chocolate," she tells him. "Or patience."

 

"What are you thinking?"

She's gone quiet and Coulson is faltering, no confidence at all. She's seen him talk to other people, people like Talbot and Price. He never lacks confidence. But that's not the real Coulson. And Daisy is thinking that maybe _naive_ is not the worst thing a person can be.

She shakes her head and kisses him softly, drawing him towards the bed.

They undress (she likes the bit where she watches Coulson sit on the edge of the bed and take off his shoes carefully) and get under the sheets together, smiling like co-conspirators. They spend a long time kissing each other's bodies raw, so starved for human touch (well, not entirely human, she guesses, not either of them). Coulson forgets her new name a couple of times, once when she wraps her hand around his half-hard cock, the other when she closes her mouth over his hipbone, but Daisy doesn't hold the msitake against him, despite his whispered apologies. She had thought their first time would be all rush and desperation, after the forced parenthesis of these months, but it's all soft edges and slowness, it's all carefulness.

When she finally lies him on his back and sinks her body into him it feels so amazing and so different to anything (for one she can feel not just Coulson inside her, but his vibrations, it's nothing at all like sex as a human) that she stops everything for a moment, trying to get used to the feeling because it's a bit defeaning, like a frequency designed just for her, but it's not hurting her.

"Okay?" Coulson asks and the feeling of his robot hand on the small of her back is no longer strange, it fits him just right.

She nods and he lets her start moving at her own pace, sitting up with her so they can be face to face and at the same level through it all.

 

+

 

She moans loudly as Coulson's hand finds a sensitive spot on her ribcage.

"Mmm, now _this_ is nice," she says, closing her eyes and lying back against her lover's chest, the soft layer of hair tickling her gently with its unfamiliarity, as Coulson wraps his arms over her shoulders. Daisy grabs his metal hand in hers and this time he lets her, and squeezes back even if he still can't feel it when she does it. He just has faith.

"Yes, you're more vocal about this than about anything I've done tonight," he comments, amused.

She bobs her head to one side, face pressed against the hollow of his shoulder. The sensation of his skin there is uneven, drawn with unexpected calloused patches, an old scar here, the memory of rifle training from decades ago there, Daisy brushes her cheek against it a couple of times, curious.

"Sorry, I'm just not very loud," she says.

"I noticed," Coulson tells her, holding her closer and closer until she feels completely enveloped and his body perfectly delineated where it touches hers – his heaving chest against her back, the hair under his belly against the small of her back, his cock soft against her ass, the sensitive skin on the inside of his arms pressed against the top of hers.

"It's not a reflection of your prowess, believe me," she clarifies.

Coulson chuckles and her whole body vibrates with it. _Look, Phil can make earthquakes too_ , she thinks.

"I didn't take it as such... until now," he jokes and kisses the back of her skull. "I'm thinking about how much I have to learn about you."

He sounds thrilled about it and it melts Daisy's heart a bit. He pushes his fingers gently against her temple to tilt her head a little so he can have access to her neck. His mouth falls on her skin, hot and quietly hungry, moving inch by inch until neck becomes shoulder.

Daisy reaches back and scratches his cheek appreciatively. "You really like the kissing bits, uh? I've noticed."

His mouth stops where shoulder becomes arm.

"I have to warn you," he tells her. "I'm a firm believer in kissing."

"Yeah," she agrees, turning her head so she can reach him. "Me too," she says, kissing him.


End file.
